Welcome to One Busy Momma! The Blog for Busy Moms by one Busy Mom.....

Welcome to my blog. One Busy Momma is my space to rant about my life and the things that happen in it. I have a crazy life - and instead of focusing on the crazy - I like to focus on the funny. Because if I focused on the craziness - well, I'd have been shipped off to an institution long, long ago. And while, I'll admit, there are some days when being institutionalized sounds PRETTY GOOD compared to making ANOTHER diorama at 1am - I'd rather be right where I am - in my messy house with my not so perfect kids making crooked dioramas in the middle of the night.

Monday, February 7, 2011

How many times has someone asked you: "What's your favorite song?" Bella asks me ALL OF THE TIME - secretly hoping my answer will change and my favorite song will be a little ditty by Justin Beiber. While that will NEVER happen - I do find that my answer changes often. Most of the time, my answer changes based on my mood. And as many of you know, my mood as of late has NOT been so great. In fact, these days music - which has never been high on my list of priorities- is about as low on the totem pole as it can get. Which is why I find it interesting that this blog post - which I've been "working on" for the past 5 weeks- revolves around a song.

One of the songs that I've always loved, and have turned to in times of crisis is Turn, Turn, Turn by Pete Seger. It's actually NOT by Pete Seger - it's lifted from the Book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible. Seger just changed the order of some of the words and added in the now-famous title line " Turn, Turn, Turn". The Byrds made the song famous. The Bible tells us that "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven." And it seems, dear readers and friends, that Busy Momma has entered a cold, harsh season of her life.

The most unbelieveably heart-breaking thing happened to me - and my family -5 weeks ago. Our baby boy, Aiden Brian, who we were all so excited to welcome into our family, was born. And while the birth of his sister and brother were times of great joy and excitement, Aiden's birth was a time of heart-shattering and mind numbing grief. It wasn't time for him to be born. In fact - much to our deep and agonizing dismay, it seems that Aiden really didn't have a divinely-determined "time to be born". Two days before Christmas we learned, much to our shock and heart-ache, that Aiden was in serious trouble. A routine sonogram detected a problem that turned out to be a disaster. We rang in the New Year with the knowledge that our little, innocent, beautiful baby boy was going to die.

The knowledge that the baby - who was still kicking and boogie-ing down inside of me - was going to die - no matter what I did - was an exquisiste form of torture. Exquisite might seem like a strange adjective - but looking back - it seems appropriate. Because feeling him moving about allowed me to acknowldge his exisitence, the fact that he was a little person who mattered. It also made me acutely aware of how fleeting our time together might be. And fleeting it was. A day and a half after we had a confirmed diagnosis of a lethal condition - he was gone. And I knew the minute that God took him - that he was gone. And while some people might say that knowledge like that is impossible, that there is no way that I could have known - I will tell you that I knew. I sensed his spirit leaving me the same way I felt the glorious moment of giving life when Jack and Bella were born. I felt that little, precious life leaving me. And as angry as I am at God right now, I do acknowldge that that moment - being able to feel that, was a gift.

I am full of anger and questions and this deep, deep sadness that is so foreign to my nature, it frightens me. I don't like this at all - not one little bit. I can't stand being so sad all of the time. And I can't stand pretending to be happy and OK when I'm all broken and shattered and dark on the inside. I went out with the girls from Book Club the other night and a little part of me hoped that someone at the bar would say something that would really piss me off so that I could punch them right in the face. Who thinks that? Especially when they are headed to BOOK CLUB?!?! I just think that it would feel so good to just go ape-shit all over some stranger and punch someone or something over and over and over again. C to the R to the A to the Z to the Y - I know. And I know that no matter what anyone says to me - I would never punch anyone. I don't even know HOW to punch something properly. But I can fantasize about it...

Everyone says thing like "It will get easier" and "Time heals all wounds" - but it really doesn't. Time has NOT been my friend. Time marches on. Life goes on. People forget, or they assume that it's been "long enough" and that you're "over it". And I'm learning THAT'S when it gets REALLY hard. The first week or so after, we had so much "stuff" to deal with - funeral arrangements, deliveries, thank-you notes, mass cards, sympathy cards. We didn't have time to grieve. We were sad and shocked and scared of what we had to do - bury him, leave the house for the first time, put the kids back in school. Our friends and family were so wonderful to us. Fifi lost her mind and just got on a plane and lived here for a week! Hermione also was spurred into nonstop action and was here cleaning and cooking and clucking all over us. My brother sprouted wings and flew here and didn't leave me for a week. Poor Sookie burst into tears at the drop of a hat and was like our own personal goalie/PR professional - she ran communications and interference in all areas of our life. The outpouring of love and devotion and genuine, heartfelt sympathy was totally overwhelming. We will never be able to express our gratitude for the love and the prayers and the calls and the flowers, meals and whatnot. What we thought was grief was, in fact, shock and sadness - the harbingers of grief - but not grief itself.

Grief rings the doorbell when everyone goes away. While everyone else is at work, writing their documents, teaching their classes, removing diseased organs and programming computers, grief sneaks onto your doorstep. And he rings the bell incessently. What I'm learning is that he is one persistent bastard. I didn't answer his call last week - because I was too busy. I was ORGANIZING! Organizing Bella and Jack's homework area. I ran out of label-maker tape, I was so busy. I just couldn't get to grief. Then, I decided to have lunch with friends - no time to deal with grief. But he showed up at lunch - and he started in on me. I pushed him away. Then he snuck up on me the next day during a conversation with someone who was trying to "make me feel better". And then he got me. And he hasn't let go of me. And I can't escape him. He clings to my back like a dowager's hump. I can actually FEEL him - my back hurts.

My mom - who really does know everything and pretty much is always right - tells me that I MUST let him in. That I have to welcome him in, pour him a cup of tea and sit with him for a while. She claims that the only way to get rid of him is to spend time with him. And in what must be an INCREDIBLY difficult statement for her to make- she also says that I really do have to stop cleaning my house like an OCD person on crack - and slow down. She says that I have to let myself cry. Ugh. Who wants to do that? I have a desk that is a bit dusty and a kitchen cabinet that is calling my name. I haven't labeled EVERYTHING in my home with my P Touch yet. I argue with her that obsessive, compulsive labeling, cleaning and organizing is WAAAY better than laying in bed and watching Jerseylicious marathons. She seems to disagree. So I'm going to try a compromise. Grief keeps getting in while I'm fighting to keep him away - so I might as well let him in. It seems that I don't have much choice in the matter. But I REFUSE to let him take over. The problem is that I don't know how to interact with him without letting him wash over me like a tsunami. I'm afraid that he will and that I will find myself adrift in a sea that I can't navigate through or escape from.

So that is why Turn, Turn, Turn is my current favorite song. It gives me hope that this too shall pass. I don't know when and I can't imagine how - but I know that people DO recover from this. I know people who have recovered from this exact form of torture - and worse. I know that my family - one member shy - will go on. We will thrive and grow after this long, cold winter. I know in my heart that Spring will come and new life will spring out of the cold, frozen earth where I find myself today.

Follow by Email

Feedjit

About Me

I'm really one busy momma - I'm a full time mom of two AWESOME kids - my daughter, who we'll call Bella or "she-who-shall-not-be-named" in this blog, is 14 years old. She is anything but your "typical" teenager. There is nothing "typical" about her. She's an amazingly talented, outgoing, gentle girl who makes my heart sing. She also makes my wallet scream...but that's how it goes! My son is 11. He plays club soccer and baseball. Sports are his life. He is also a budding chef and loves to make dinner for the family.My husband, who would like to be called "Mr. Big" in this blog, is an all around prince and good guy who puts up with me and all of my quirkiness and "great ideas". I call him PC in the blog - for Prince Charming. We have built an incredible life together - a life that I wouldn't trade for anyone else's.